


All The Other Boys are Tough and Smooth

by Zwtfmate



Category: Last Podcast on The Left (Podcast) RPF
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, Listen this is just Bad Farmcore Americana, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ranch Hand/Rancher's Son, Rancher!AU, TRAVIS MORNINGSTAR DON'T INTERACT, purposefully vague time setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26744377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwtfmate/pseuds/Zwtfmate
Summary: Leaving home for the first time can be tricky, and the last place Ben expected to end up was on a cattle ranch in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere Texas. Even more unexpected is the ranch owner's son taking a shine to him.He'll work with it.
Relationships: Ben Kissel/Marcus Parks
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	All The Other Boys are Tough and Smooth

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% unbeta'd because I have been in bed with a PMS/Testosterone Migraine and wrote this in between head-splitting pain while Evil played in the bg. 
> 
> When I was eleven the cows on my grandfather's land got out of the grazing field and wandered into the front yard and we weren't allowed to go outside until my Gpa came around with the truck to wrangle them back cause he was out with the horses so we watched from the kitchen window as they ate the rose garden. That's where most of my knowledge of Ranch Life comes from.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?”Ben glanced up from where he was crouched, blinking at the sun behind the figure. 

“What, uh, gave me away?”

“There’s only’a handful of folks in this town.” After the initial blindness from the sky faded, Ben saw a man was grinning down at him. He was tall by normal standards, still about seven inches smaller than Ben himself, with a slight build that could be gaunt if he missed a meal or two. The man was maybe around Ben’s age with sharp angles and narrow face for a narrow body. Stringy brown hair framed two water-shed blue eyes, shaded by a tan wide brimmed hat. “I would know if you were a local. Lived here my whole life.”

“That so?” Ben set the hay bale he was holding back down and straightened up. He watched how the stranger’s eyes followed the length of him up. He ignored what the look might mean.

“Mhm. You the new ranch hand?”“Yup.” Ben brushed his hands off on his jeans the best he could, and held one out. “Ben Kissel.”The man’s smile grew and gripped his hand right back. “Marcus Parks.” Ben was surprised how big Marcus’ hand was in his, long rough fingers curling around his palm tightly.

“Parks. Like, the owner?”

“Owner’s son.” Marcus laughed. “Jesus, don’t look so skittish, man. No reason to hang onto formalities or nothin’. I’ll be working alongside you more than not anyways. Best to be friendly, you know?”

Friendly. “Right.” Ben nodded, noticed that they hadn’t stopped shaking hands. Or more like, they had stopped making the motions, but now they were just holding their hands between them. Ben felt the sweat forming on his palm from the hot day.

Marcus kept his eyes on him as he finally, slowly, let go and tucked his hands in his belt loops. It framed the front of his jeans near perfectly. “Lots to do round here, so it’s good yer here. Always glad to have another pair of legs to move shit around.” Marcus grinned once more, then tipped his hat. “Nice ta meet you, Ben. See ya around.”

He stepped back, turning on his boot heel and heading back toward the house. Ben watched him go, pretending he wasn’t keeping beat to the rhythm of Marcus’ hips swaying. He snapped back to himself, shook his head, turned back to the pile of hay. Must be getting dehydrated, he thought. Explain the sudden lightheadedness and the dry mouth.

\----

When Ben left, this wasn’t the destination he had in mind. He didn’t really have any destination, honestly; when you’re running away, you aren’t thinking about where you’re going. Where he went was some random small town in Bumfuck Nowhere, Texas. He only planned to stop for the night and move on from there, but when he stopped by the local bar, one of the patrons saw him and gave a long whistle.

“Boy, you must be some kind of strain of giant. They could probably use the likes of you up at the Parks stead. Looking for some new hires around the place, if’n yer lookin’.” 

He wasn’t, but then he thought of the fact that his meagre cash supply was running low, and he was wandering anyways. No hurt checking it out, right? A few months hard labor and then he could move on to somewhere else where he could be someone else all over again.

\------

The first time Ben worked with Marcus, it was with a group of other men, workers and the other Parks brothers, lifting wood for a new fence down the property. Ben stuck with the hired help, chatting and making jokes, but he couldn’t help his eye wandering.

Marcus was by the truck, sliding slats of wood out and handing them off. He had stripped down to his undershirt, grimy with sweat and dirt, clinging to the nip of his waist. His arms flexed with the movements, surprisingly muscled, his shoulders pinking under the sun. He paused for a moment, leaning against the bed, pulling off his hat to wipe at his forehead and sip at a canteen. 

His eyes caught Ben’s as he tipped the flask back, and held the gaze as he drank slow. Ben felt pinned by the look, like a deer trapped between two headlights. He watched Marcus tilt his head back farther, the bob of his adams apple. Some drops of water dripped from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his lips and towards his chin. Ben’s mouth was suddenly dry as a bone.

Marcus pulled the canteen away, wiping his mouth. He shook it in Ben’s direction. “Thirsty, Kissel?”

Ben started, blinking fast. “Oh, uh, no. I’m-I’m good.” He glanced around the. No-one seemed to be paying them any mind. How long had he been staring? It must have been obvious, but the world was still turning, somehow.

“You sure? You look a little hot.” Marcus grinned. There was still a little moisture on his upper lip.

Ben forced himself to look at the ground. “Naw, really, I’m- fine. Thanks, though.”

Ben turned back to the work at hand, putting his back to Marcus. The fence was built, the day was over, and Ben kept his eyes and his thoughts to himself.

He felt someone’s stare on his back from time to time. He kept that to himself too.

\----

He didn’t register when the door closed, just noticed when the yelling was abruptly cut off. The air was still a bit crisp, winter still thawing into spring. Ben felt the chill and realized he forgot his jacket. He wasn’t going back to get it.  
As the sun continued setting, he walked to his car, got in, and pulled out before his father or, god forbid, his mother followed him out. The streetlights came on as he passed one block after another, out farther and farther until he was on the highway. He thought of what was in his trunk, how much he still had on his card, where is brothers were, if he should give one of them a call.

He kept driving.

\---

“You ever ride a horse, Ben?”

Ben made a face. “Do I look like I would ride a horse?”

Marcus laughed, reedy and fast. “Not really, I guess. Too Tall?”

“Too Fat.” Ben reached out, patting the muzzle of the black mare that had come to search him for any spare oats. He didn’t know the proper etiquette around the horses, so Mr. Parks had Marcus take him out and show him what’s what. “Not many where I came from either.”

“Michigan?”

“Wisconsin.” The mare sniffed at Ben’s arm, black nose nudging gently at his sleeve. “Stuck to the suburbs mostly. There was a petting zoo at a party I went to once, might have had a pony or something.”

Marcus snorted. “Should’a taken you as a city boy.” He stroked the mare’s sleek neck, making soft noises for a moment. Ben tried to focus on the horse.

“Can’t really help that. Dad was a preacher, mom stayed home with me and my brothers.”

Marcus hummed, glancing at Ben from behind his bangs. “Why’d ya leave?”

Ben swallowed, kept his stare on the grass. “Cause it was time to go.”

“Go where? Here?”

“No, not here.” He huffed, looking out at the range. “But not... not here, either.”

“What made you leave?”

“Nothing!” He didn’t realize he raised his voice until the horse spooked, stepping away with a snort. Marcus frowned, shushing and soothing until she stilled. Ben felt a twinge of guilt, all churned up in his gut. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I shouldn’t’ve pried.” Marcus kept his face turned toward the animal so Ben couldn’t see his expression. 

The air felt heavy with the residual tension. Ben wanted to say something, anything, but he felt his jaw click when he tries opening his mouth. Marcus must have noticed, or not have noticed, or chose not to notice, and carefully held out his hand. “C’mere.” When Ben didn’t move, he finally turned to look at him. “Ya gotta calm her down so she won’t be scared of you.”

Ben bit his lip, slowly stepping into Marcus’ space. Marcus took his hand, showed him where to touch the mare, a loose loop of fingers guiding his wrist across rough hairs. Ben stayed trained on where their skin met, focused on listening, and soon the mare was back to pushing at Ben’s shoulder, and everything was fine again. Marcus hadn’t let go of Ben, and Ben didn’t ask him to.

\----

When he stepped into the house, the first thing Ben noticed was the wall of skulls.

“Um.” He said, and Marcus glanced back him, flashed him a grin.

“Just a small part of my collection. These are my favorite pieces.”

“Your.... collection?”Marcus hummed, adjusted what might have been a coyote if Ben had to shoot off a guess. “Been building it for years now, since I was a kid.”

Ben frowned, looking from Marcus to the wall and back. “Are they... hunting trophies?”

“No! Well, some of them, but it ain’t for sport or nothin’.” Marcus hung his hat on the horns tacked by the door, motioned Ben to do the same. “Most of ‘em though, I found while out with the horses or fixin’ fences or whatever.” Marcus continued into the kitchen, and Ben found to his dismay even more animal bones in there. Marcus moved about them without a care, grabbing two mugs and the coffee press. “Prefer when they’re still pretty fresh, easier to move ‘em without losing pieces.”

“So you just... take animal corpses and strip them down to bones? And just collect them?”

“Yeah.”

“And your... father doesn’t mind?”

Marcus shrugged. “Not really, s’long as I work outside and keep the house guts-free.” He leaned on the counter, grinning at Ben, eyes full of mirth. “Am I scarin’ ya off, City Boy?”

“No! No, just uh. Trying to understand.” Ben didn’t know what to do with the way Marcus was looking at him, like he was being teased over his accent or wearing the wrong kind of boots. He tried to cover the heat in his face by picking up a small thin bone by his hand. “What’s this?”

“Raccoon Penile Bone.”

Ben yelped, dropped it like it burned. “Ugh, Jesus, Marcus!” He scowled as Marcus giggled loud and obnoxious. “Why’d you even keep that???”

“Because it’s fun, Benjamin! There’s lots of interestin’ lore around ‘em too.” Marcus rested his head on his hand, jack-o-lantern grin softening into something smaller, something sharp and simmering. “Did you know that in some cultures the penile bone is a token of fertility?”

Ben swallowed. He didn’t know what to say to that. “Uh..... really?”

“Mhm. Animal Baculums are sometimes worn around the neck to attract love. If someone gifts you one, it may mean they are interested in you, or that they’re tryin’a fuck you.”

Ben’s heart began to thud a little. He cleared his throat, gave an awkward laugh. “Well I uh, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time someone tries to give me dick bones.”

Marcus hummed, neutral, but his smile hadn’t changed. A stiff silence fell onto the kitchen, the only sounds were the coffee brewing and the heavy pounding of Ben’s blood in his ears. Marcus looked away first, tending to pouring the coffee into the mugs. Instead of holding it out to Ben in an offer, Marcus stepped into Ben’s space, between the counter and the curve of Ben’s stomach. He pressed the cup into Ben’s hand, heat from the ceramic almost too much on his palm. Ben stood as still as possible, terrified if he breathed in too deeply he’d catch the scent of Marcus’ sweat and shampoo. With his other hand, Marcus picked up the baculum, looking it over. He held the bone delicately between to long fingers. 

“Y’know, how about you keep this.” He said, casual as anything. Those fingers tucked themselves into the front pocket of Ben’s jeans, lingering a fraction too long before pulling back out. “Start your own collection.”

Ben felt the slim bone pressed against his hip. He felt the coffee burn his hand. His voice was halting and hoarse. “Don’t think I could catch up with you here.”

“Ain’t a competition, Ben.” Marcus looked at Ben’s face, flicking from his eyes to his mouth, briefly. “There’s no rush. We got all the time we need.”

Ben wanted to disagree; there would never be enough time. Eventually the moment would end and they’d have to go about their lives like nothing happened. He didn’t want to voice it, though, so instead he brought the coffee to his mouth. Marcus watched, corners of his lips raised slightly.

“Good?”

Ben nodded, cleared his throat again. “We should, uh, get started. Don’t want your dad to think I’m slacking off and fire me.”

“Don’t worry, I’d vouch for ya.” Marcus stepped back to his own cup, sipped at it. “Wouldn’t want to lose our best employee, after all.”

Ben snorted, rolled his eyes. “Ok, now I know that’s bullshit.”

Marcus laughed and gave a shrug. “Alright, maybe not our best, but... definitely a favorite.”

“Well, thank you very much, Mr. Parks.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Kissel.”

And like Ben predicted, the moment was over. They headed to work soon after, chatting about nothing in particular, falling into routine. Every once in a while Ben would make a joke and Marcus would laugh, or their shoulders would brush in passing, or Marcus would look up mid-task and smile, and Ben would have the urge to reach into his pocket and hold the bone in his hand. 

He didn’t until later that night in the dark of his room, when he was alone with his thoughts. He set it on the bedside table, looked at it until his eyes couldn’t stay open anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Only I would use animal bones as a seduction technique


End file.
